


In Which Names Are Important

by OlwenDylluan, Quilly



Series: Quodlibets [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Kid Fic, Middle Names, Other, does it count as kid fic if the kids are snakes and so is one of the parents, registering for school, wiggleverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 16:57:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21497446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlwenDylluan/pseuds/OlwenDylluan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilly/pseuds/Quilly
Summary: Aziraphale is filling out paperwork to register his children for school when an interesting problem crops up. Crowley is not amused.(Takes place soon afterIn Which Angelica and Clem Meet a Localbut beforeIn Which A Story Is Told, when Angelica and Rosa have decided they'd like to try school after all.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Quodlibets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589863
Comments: 20
Kudos: 325
Collections: Wiggleverse





	In Which Names Are Important

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! It's a collaboration piece!
> 
> OlwenDylluan and I were nerding about like we do and somehow managed to craft this ficlet between the two of us. Please enjoy the fruits of our labors!
> 
> (OlwenDylluan says: Quilly gets the lion’s share of the applause here because she expanded the idea and typed it out!)

Crowley didn’t remember the name of the kid who passed by the house and enchanted his kids with a bicycle (J-something, Jeremy? Jake?), but if he ever saw that kid again, said kid was getting a sound cursing from whence no subsequent blessing would ever save him. He would…he’d be stubbing his toes for the rest of his life. Be so stunted and hobbled all his friends would have to call him Stubby. Would serve him right.

“School, right,” Crowley yawned, shifting under the mountain of paperwork he was waking up to for the third morning in a row. “Why?”

“The girls asked,” Aziraphale said absently. “We’ve been over this.” He tapped his pen against the notepad he’d been scribbling in. “Would both our names go on the line for father, or should I take the mother’s place?”

“Don’t see how it matters,” Crowley grumbled, burrowing under the covers and seeking warmth without a subsequent poke in the ear from an errant article about the local primary school. He found a sweet spot with his forehead pressed to a soft hip and just enough blanket to shield his poor abused head from paper-related injury.

“Because these need to be accurate, Crowley,” Aziraphale tutted, adjusting his spectacles. “The children are already so different, I don’t want…that is, it would be…they don’t need a formal inquiry because something was off about their paperwork.”

“Just—just miracle it alright and call it good,” Crowley whined. “Come back to bed.”

“I’m in bed, dearest,” Aziraphale said, giving Crowley’s hair an absentminded pat. “Miracle budget, remember? It was your idea first.” As Crowley grumbled, Aziraphale gasped. “Oh! Oh, I hadn’t even thought—should we give them middle names?”

“Middle names?” Crowley frowned, and headbutted Aziraphale’s thigh. “What are you on about now?”

“Middle names,” Aziraphale said. “For the children.”

“I understand whom for, but _why_?”

“Humans have them,” Aziraphale said. “It would make them blend in better, if they had them.”

“Stupid,” Crowley said dismissively. He received a hard poke to the shoulder.

“You gave yourself one, you know,” Aziraphale reminded him.

“S’not a middle name,” Crowley protested. “S’ just a J.”

“Well, regardless, you felt the need to give yourself one, so now I think our children get some,” Aziraphale said. “Oh, there’s so many options—do you think we could give them names of some of our human friends, over the years?”

“Why? They’re dead,” Crowley sighed, resigned to the fact that they were going to have this conversation whether he wanted them to or not.

“Exactly! It would be a nice tribute to their memories,” Aziraphale sighed. “Almost rather romantic, I think.”

“Romantic—angel,” Crowley sat up at last, ignoring Aziraphale’s squeak of distress as his paperwork went sliding, “angel, I love you with all my heart and soul, but it was bloody hard enough coming up with first names. They don’t need middle names.”

“Oh, we have to figure out a surname, as well,” Aziraphale said, pointing his pen at that particular footnote he’d made on his notebook. “Is it Fell-Crowley, or Crowley-Fell?”

“Bit on the nose, that last one,” Crowley huffed, and Aziraphale crossed it out.

“Fell-Crowley it is, then,” Aziraphale nodded. “I think it might be fun, thinking up middle names.” Aziraphale glanced across to their bedroom wall and pointed at the cartoon of the Mona Lisa, still guarding a wall safe but looking much more homey against the painted wall of the cottage. “Oh! How about Datura Leonardo, for example?”

“Datura Leonardo?” Crowley repeated, in exactly the tone of voice he thought the idea deserved, which was full of incredulity and scorn. “You would do that to our own flesh and blood? Are you insane?”

“What? It sounds dashing,” Aziraphale huffed. “I remember some of the names the nobles in court had—they had several, of course, made them sound quite distinguished.”

“It made them sound like prats with more money than sense,” Crowley disagreed. “We are not doing middle names.”

“If you don’t want to be included in this process, you only have to say so, dear,” Aziraphale said with single-minded determination. Crowley groaned.

Crowley was beginning to think he was the only sane one in this family.

.

The horrors never ceased, it seemed, because into the continuing week, Aziraphale started throwing out names out of the children’s earshot.

“Elizabeth is quite a lovely name,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully over his book while Crowley supervised the children at the window.

“No,” Crowley growled.

“What do you think about Patrick?” Aziraphale asked while chopping vegetables for dinner.

“Like the sod who threw me out of Ireland that one time?” Crowley seethed. “Not a chance.”

“Oh! Sappho!” Aziraphale cried.

“Angel!” Crowley protested, hauling himself back from what had been a very promising snog progressing to an incredibly promising bout of Adult Time.

It had become so bad that Aziraphale and his paperwork were officially banished to the library until he was done with it, because if Crowley had to hear another name thrown at him for consideration, he would go completely feral and burrow into the garden to escape.

.

Crowley had heard nothing of the middle name debacle for several weeks. It was a normal day, just watching over the children while Aziraphale went to collect the post. It was easy enough—Rosa was ensconced in her rose arbor with a book he was fairly certain she hadn’t gotten permission to touch, Clem was asleep in his lap, Angelica, Datura, and Junior were playing some elaborate game of pirates and princesses, the finer points of which were going over Crowley’s head. The weather was lovely and warm and summery, and Crowley himself was on the verge of a doze, arm on the table on the porch, when Aziraphale returned, letting the porch door slam in his excitement.

“Gah!” Crowley jumped, and accidentally dislodged Clem, who hissed in startlement. “Oh, sorry, spawn, I—okay, off you go,” Crowley sighed as Clem slid down his legs and slithered to a quieter napping spot.

“I got their birth certificates back,” Aziraphale said, his voice glowing with pride, and Crowley let his head fall back as he groaned. “Do you want to see?”

Crowley let out a few more wordless groans and protests before sighing deeply. “Come on. Let’s see the damage.”

“I hardly think it’s damage, my dear,” Aziraphale pouted as he passed the manila envelope. Crowley took the papers out of it and examined them with mounting horror.

“Angelica Miriam Joan Fell-Crowley,” he read, and set it down. “Rosa Victoria Zipporah Fell-Crowley. Clematis William Oscar Fell-Crowley—really, angel? Oscar?”

“He was a dear friend and there for me at a…delicate stage in life,” Aziraphale sniffed. Crowley rolled his eyes.

“They sound like professors,” Crowley grumbled. “A little load of—oh, Aziraphale, you didn’t.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked.

“Datura Leonardo Yeshua Fell-Crowley?” Crowley stared at Aziraphale with something between disappointment and disgust. “Did you even ask them about it before saddling them with a moniker like that?”

“Yes, I did, in fact,” Aziraphale said breezily. “All of them had a hand in it, since I couldn’t get _their father’s_ cooperation.”

Crowley mumbled venomous nonsense and laid Datura’s aside to see the last one. He paused. He laid it down. He folded his arms on the table, and laid his head on his arms, and made a noise like a teakettle.

“It seemed…appropriate,” Aziraphale said, not bothering to disguise the laugh in his voice. “Junior was quite pleased with himself.”

“I’m sure he was,” Crowley sighed, lifting his head. “Anthony Freddie Bentley Fell-Crowley, Junior? He’s going to give himself a complex, at this point.”

“He’s been tossing around AJ as a nickname, if he decides he wants to go to school,” Aziraphale said, taking back the birth certificates and stacking them. “Seems to think he’ll be cooler that way than if he went by Junior or Anthony.”

“I mean…he’s not wrong,” Crowley grumbled, thinking of the various embossed letterheads and nameplates that had borne the same initials through the decades. “Well, congratulations, angel, our children are officially the weirdest kids on the street.”

“Most unique, perhaps,” Aziraphale said, tucking the paperwork away. He stood, walked over to Crowley, and kissed him on the temple. “Most loved, definitely.”

“Alright, alright, don’t gloat, it’s beneath you,” Crowley scowled, definitely not grabbing Aziraphale’s hand and squeezing it fondly. “I’ll get used to it.”

“I’m certain you will,” Aziraphale said, and waved out at the yard, pointing at the envelope.

“Oh, they’re here!” one of the kids said, and suddenly all five were running (and slithering) over to crowd around Aziraphale’s legs, demanding to see their certificates.

“We have many names now, Father,” Angelica said proudly, showcasing hers when Aziraphale let her see it.

_Rosa’s book said it’ll make us protected against fairies,_ Clem informed him, slithering back up onto his lap, and Crowley huffed, unable to keep up the façade of irritation in the face of five excited snakelets.

“Well, so long as everyone’s alright with it,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale winked.

**Author's Note:**

> (WinkWink to Starwolf69 for the Adult Time reference, that fic will always get me and I will reference it as often as possible <33)


End file.
